


Connection

by RenegadeLibrarian



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: EDI snark, Everybody Lives, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Paragon Commander Shepard, couple naughty jokes and grown up language, post-ME2, putting each other back together after the Collector base, spoil-y spoilers for ME2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-19 00:42:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2367935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenegadeLibrarian/pseuds/RenegadeLibrarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Normandy returns from the Collector base, injured but triumphant, much like her crew. Garrus and Shepard set about the daily business of putting themselves back together, knowing the next fight is soon to come</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Garrus

**Author's Note:**

> Immediately upon finishing our we-still-love-Kaidan-even-though-he's-being-a-jerk play through, we hopped back and started Captain Kirking it. Who could resist seducing gruff, sweet Garrus? (originally posted on ff.net)

 

"Lose this connection, Joker." The grid faded as the lights came up. "And find us someplace decent to fix my ship."

"Illium?" Joker ventured over the comm, pleased to be breaking ties with Cerberus.

"I said decent," she waved dismissively and cringed against the resulting pain, " There's got to be somewhere less mercenary than that. Like Tuchanka."

"Aye, aye, Commander." The pilot shook his head, amused that the Commander so vocally preferred the volatile Krogans over the politics and intrigue of more "polite" society. Not that Joker would take her advice and get his baby fixed by Krogans. He was thinking more along the lines of buttering up Tali to see if the Migrant Fleet would take them in for a while. Of course, that would bring up the issue of Legion, but if it got the Normandy the best repair available, he'd hold the Geth's hand the whole time.

 

* * *

 

 

They'd passed through the Omega-4 Relay less than an hour ago and, already, all available crew members were working to piece the Normandy back together. Garrus knew that whatever patch jobs the crew managed in transit would need to be fixed properly once they found an adequate port but no one was willing to assume they'd avoid trouble long enough to tolerate reduced shields or weapons. That was one of the things that he'd always liked about Shepard's crew, optimistic—as he'd found humans, in general, to be—but constantly preparing for the worst.

Garrus studied the performance readout of the Thanix Cannons he'd upgraded at Shepard's request, pleased at their output against the Collectors but already considering further improvements. If they were to again encounter the Reapers or their agents, which seemed inevitable, then there was no such thing as enough firepower. He didn't need to ask Shepard to know she'd agree. He pushed her image to the back of his mind. She had bigger things to deal with right now; she didn't need him following her around, assuring himself of her safety and wondering if she felt the same as he did about…

"Mister Vakarian?" EDI's melodic voice interrupted his thoughts. "Commander Shepard has...encountered some difficulty. Statistical analysis indicates that your assistance is most likely to be accepted."

"Is she alright?" Alarm coursed through him.

"The Commander 's wounds do not currently threaten her life. She has expressly forbidden me from contacting Doctor Chakwas or Mordin Solus regarding her condition as they are both currently occupied managing crew injuries and the significant damage to Tali'Zorah's environmental suit. I have observed that you and the Commander share a certain…closeness. I do not believe that she would turn you away. Her injuries are severe enough that they cannot be left untreated. Commander Shepard's continued survival is of utmost importance."

"I couldn't agree with you more. Where is she?"

"The Commander has retired to her quarters."

"Thank you, EDI." Garrus was already into the hallway.

 

* * *

 

 

"Damn it!" Shepard hissed, shaking fingers probing along the edges of her armor. In her frustration, she missed the soft click as the lock to her door disengaged.

"I heard you could use a hand…" Her eyes snapped up at the familiar, rough voice. Garrus stood just inside her doorway, medkit in hand and mandibles flexing. It was that telling display of uncertainty that softened her features into a tired but mischievous smirk.

"And quite capable hands they are. Now get over here and put them to work getting me out of this damned suit. Fucking Harbinger, I think he melted the release. I can't see it though…" She twisted back for a better angle, wincing. The overhead lights glinted across a small stream of red leaking from the half-opened seal.

"Did it _breach_ your suit? Damn it, Shepard!" He tugged her upright, "Stop squirming and let me do it." He knelt to get a better look at the damaged mechanism. "I think this one's a total loss, Shepard," Garrus muttered as he lit up his omni-tool, "I need to break down this whole panel to get you out."

"Fine. But damn it. I _liked_ this suit." She huffed.

"Stand still and I'll buy you a new one." Shepard felt the click of his talons against the plates.

"Now that's the way to a girl's heart, right there." She teased, distracting herself from the radiating pain in her back and side. "Forget flowers, bring her armor upgrades."

"So last night was just your excitement over my cannon upgrade?" Garrus stilled as the implications set in. "For the Normandy. The cannons for the…you know what? Nevermind."

"You have a way with words, Garrus." She couldn't help the humor in her tone, despite the increasing pain as Garrus jarred her hidden injuries.

"You always make fun of the Turian prying you out of your armor?"

"Can't say as I've had the opportunity before." She sent a feeble smile over her shoulder.

"Well…good." He ran a soft caress over her hip before bracing his hand firmly at her waist. "This part's going to hurt. I just don't see any other way. Unless you've changed your mind about the medbay?"

"No, they've got their hands full. Just do it." She felt Garrus shift his weight and grip the torn panel before searing agony eclipsed everything else. Her vision blurred and winked out into welcome black.

 

* * *

 

 

She felt something cool and smooth on her cheek and opened her eyes to Garrus carefully running the backs of his talons across her skin, his eyes anxious and mandibles twitching.

"Hey…" Shepard assessed her surroundings. She was back in bed, propped on her side and swathed in bandages. "What's the damage?"

"Suit's garbage. But it saved your life. Looks like it stopped a direct hit from one of those particle beams. Heated that whole side of the suit, melted most of it. Left you with a nasty burn, runs from under your…" His voice trailed off awkwardly as he gently touched her ribs.

"Breast. Didn't complain…last night..." She graced him with a woozy grin. He grumbled, mandibles close to his jaw, in what she figured was equitable to a Turian blush.

"Fine. From under your left _breast_ nearly around to your spine. And you took a round in the side. Clean shot, fortunately. Plus a whole host of minor cuts, bruises and abrasions. I disinfected everything and applied medi-gel. Gave you some painkillers. Try not to attack another Reaper on foot until you're healed, alright?" He stood to go, every nerve tense at the sight of her prone and beaten. What would he be doing now if she had _died?_

Shepard caught his wrist. "Mad?" Her eyebrows furrowed in concern at his sarcastic remark and stiff body language. Was it something she'd said?

"Wha…Shepard, mad? About what? That you saved the galaxy, again?" He sat back down on the edge of the bed, the hard edge evaporating from his voice. Garrus wondered what had brought the deep concern to her eyes.

"Took chances. Left Reaper tech."

"You did what you had to, we all did. And, for what it's worth, I think it was the right thing. You and I, we've seen what Cerberus does with technology. The Threasher Maw traps, the Thorian husks, the experiments, even Jack…and this would have been even worse. And that wasn't just technology out there, that was a mass grave." Garrus laid a hand on her head, about the only place she didn't seem injured. His rough skin caught in her hair but she relished the contact. "You acted honorably. It was the only choice."

He could see the drugs moving through her system, her eyes blinking heavily and her words slow. Still, something like relief washed across her features. He was glad that he could offer her some measure of peace if the decision plagued her so deeply. Glad that she accepted what he offered.

"Stay?" Her fingers drew absentminded circles on the back of his hand and Garrus was once again overwhelmed by the differences between them. He had been unprepared for the utter vulnerability of the human body, despite his research. It was inconceivable that such a delicate species not only survived but produced warriors like her.

"Are you sure, Shepard? Dr. Chakwas is bound to show up when she realizes you never came down for a post-mission exam. You know how she gets about those. There will be…questions if she finds me here. With you."

The medicated fog lifted from her eyes as mirth spread across her face. It was the same Damn-The-Consequences smile that had ensnared him in the first place.

"I'll tell her you won me over with your _cannon_." She dissolved into throaty laughter, whether from the drugs or just the euphoria of survival setting in, Garrus wasn't sure. He couldn't imagine walking away from the particular brand of joy that was Commander Shepard, though.

"You are a very troublesome human." He growled playfully, disengaging the seals on his own armor and dumping the heavy cowl on the floor. He didn't miss the appreciative look Shepard gave him as the last piece of armor joined the pile, revealing his torso. She started rolling aside to make room, grimacing as she put pressure on her injured side. He found the sight of her in pain surprisingly unsettling.

"Hey, I just fixed that." He stilled her with a steady hand. "Let me." Garrus carefully lifted her to the center of the bed, letting his hands linger over her intriguing curves before he stretched out beside her, marveling at the smooth flesh of her exposed shoulder even as he dragged the sheet over her, hoping to protect her already damaged body from abrasion. She looked at him oddly.

" Feel like a mummy." She shoved the sheet back down and curled beneath his outstretched arm, her face laid gently against the crook of his shoulder. Garrus sighed, _so much for good intentions._ Still, he could not deny the appeal of her small breaths against his bare skin.

"What's a mummy?" He finally asked, grasping at a distraction from the light touch of her fingers low against his stomach.

"Preserved corpse, wrapped in cloth." She murmured, still drawing lazy circles.

"That sounds…highly unpleasant. Why would you want to be compared to a corpse of any kind?" His question came out strained and she heard his mandibles click faintly as her fingers wandered. She smiled, pleased by his reaction to her touch.

"Human saying, sort of. Too many blankets. Feel…trapped…"

"Oh." He wouldn't argue with that. After seeing all those bodies confined in tight pods, he could understand a certain need to feel free. She murmured contentedly against him, curving her body more closely to his, and Garrus couldn't help the surge of pride that she trusted him so deeply the she'd asked him to stay even when drugged and vulnerable. He'd hardly ever seen Shepard let her shields down; she was strong for everyone else but never burdened her team with any fears or weaknesses of her own.

Garrus felt a shiver run through her. "Sure you're not cold?" He couldn't help but worry about scratching her as she slept but knew better than to admit that. A handful of the marks on her body had been his doing; unintentional, certainly, but still concerning. But Shepard had already shrugged them off once and he knew she never backed down when she decided what she wanted.

"Mmm…nope. Talked a Turian into the sack. High body temperature, great shot, nice abs…Plus, Illusive Man's head might explode when he finds out how I used his expensive bed." She teased sleepily, twitching her fingers and enjoying the low growl she elicited.

"Sounds useful," he replied warmly, gazing down at her. "How'd you find him?"

"Illusive Man actually. Might let him live for that. Best intel he gave me, best surprise…" She smoothed her hand over his defined muscles until it rested near his heart. Garrus rested his cheek against her forehead in response, mandibles stroking delicately across her face.

"Getting shot at by merc gangs seems doesn't sound too nice. Or surprising, given our line of work."

"Get shot at anyway, doesn't matter." Garrus tightened an arm around her, anger pulsing in his veins. Violence might be an unavoidable element of their duty but every shot aimed at her was an unforgivable crime. Still, he remained silent as she continued. "Surprise was Archangel. An old friend…a good friend…"

"Seems like you met lots of old friends on this trip, Shepard. What was so special about this one?" Garrus still couldn't understand why the Commander had chosen him. Why _he'd_ said yes was easy; she was noble and strong and utterly devoted to her people, which she defined not by species but by relationship and need. Every innocent without someone to stand up for them was her people, anyone who stood beside her in battle, anyone who fought injustice or corruption or evil. Only an idiot would say no to a being even half as incredible as the deceptively soft creature at his side. But her reasoning eluded him. There were easier choices, more certainly.

"Not as many old friends as I thought…distrust, grief…resurrection isn't for the faint of heart." She sighed and Garrus knew she was remembering the life she'd lost. His loose embrace tightened at the memory of her death. The acute stab of loss equaled in intensity only by the fierce joy of her grinning face that night on Omega. "But this one…trusted me…accepted me…" Shepard's voice grew fainter as exhaustion and medication dragged her toward unconsciousness. "Worlds are harsh, cruel. Has faith, anyway."

"You sure you're not thinking of someone else, Shepard? I'm not sure I can be accused of having much faith in people." Garrus had seen too many malignant evils growing beneath the surface of society to trust much in the innate goodness of anything. He watched her face, worried and wishing—not for the first time—that humans had proper mandibles instead of their fuzzy eyebrows to help him decipher what they were thinking.

"Faith in _me_. Keeps me strong, sure. _Best surprise…_ " She pressed her lips against his exposed chest in a tender caress as she gave in to sleep; Garrus tensed as the gesture triggered a flood of passionate memory. The first press of supple, smooth skin against his own rough angles. The surprising pleasure of her kiss on his face, along his sensitive mandibles, wandering over his body. Before Shepard, Garrus had never even considered humans…well…intimately, and it was the appeal of her intensity, her character that had won his interest. Knowing this, she had then taken distinct pleasure in proving to him the delights in her smooth curves and yielding flesh. He'd always suspected that she found fervent satisfaction in overturning long held preconceptions. She'd certainly done a number on his.

Garrus felt a surge of contentment at the gentle drape of her body over his, sleep and trust loosening her muscles. He knew that discovery by Dr. Chakwas would complicate both of their lives. Garrus could not convince himself to leave. Only a fool would waste this. He settled deeper into the soft warmth of her bed, adjusted the sheet to better protect Shepard's battered limbs and let his own eyes drift shut, lulled by lax weight of her hand over his heart. Both slept dreamlessly.


	2. Doctor Chakwas

 

"I must repeat that Commander Shepard does not currently require medical attention. Your intrusion is unnecessary." EDI's voice dogged Dr. Chakwas through the corridor. The human doctor shook her head at the AI's persistence.

"And _I repeat,_ as the doctor aboard this vessel, the health of the crew is my responsibility." She punched the override code into Commander Shepard's door and scowled at the blinking "Error" message it displayed. "Very funny, EDI, but I will perform the Commander's post-mission physical; we both know that she did not return from the Collector base unharmed. When's the last time she returned from _any_ mission unharmed? Nevermind, that was rhetorical. Now stop blocking my access codes and let me do my job." Exasperation sounded in each word.

"Very well, Doctor. Please remember that I was against this course of action." EDI's voice cut out abruptly, equally frustrated. A meaningful pause passed before the door slid open.

"Heaven help us, Shepard's stubbornness is even rubbing off on the AI." Chakwas muttered, rolling her eyes.

Light from the fish tanks cast wandering shadows through the darkened room. Concern filled the doctor; she had expected to find her awake. Only dangerous exhaustion could explain Shepard's willingness to sleep so soon after a mission; certainly after _this_ mission. Usually she spent hours debriefing each crew member personally, expertly keeping her personnel functional with the special brand of attention that trademarked Shepard's leadership. Perhaps EDI had underestimated the Commander's injuries.

Dr. Chakwas knew better than to flick the overheads on; a sleeping and wounded N7 was the last person she wanted to startle. Instead, she took a moment to let her eyes adjust to the dim room, no reason to fully rouse Shepard if it proved unnecessary. The flickering light drew her attention to an impressive display of miniature spacecraft. Including a model of Sovereign. Chakwas felt safe assuming the bull's-eye tagged to the front was a…customization. But it made her smile, knowing that Commander Shepard retained the ability to see humor in her life, despite the endless tragedies and setbacks. She continued down to the main room, drawing up abruptly at the sight before her.

Well.

At least she knew why EDI had thrown such a fit about their leader's privacy.

Blue light from the tank slid across metallic flesh, highlighting sharply angled Turian features before spilling onto the sleeping human curled against him. Apparently, Shepard's unorthodox approach applied to _everything_. The deep shadows concealed neither the stark white bandages swathing Shepard's ribs nor the twin piles of discarded armor.

"Need something, Doctor?" Garrus' low voice startled her back into focus. Health concerns came before anything else. Later, she could process this…new development.

"It seems you've already addressed it." Dr. Chakwas couldn't help the censure that crept into her voice. A lifetime of Alliance regulations was not so easily ignored. Despite the low tones, Shepard stirred and turned bleary eyes on the medic.

"Tali?" The Commander thought first of her people; at least some things remained unchanged.

"Tali'Zorah will be fine. We administered heavy antibiotics to prevent further infection and Mordin and I set her up in a sterile pod so she may safely repair her suit. I am more concerned about you, at the moment."

"We're good. Check…the crew." We, not I. _Interesting._

"I _have_ checked the crew, Commander. Imagine my surprise when I heard that you'd skipped the medbay despite your injuries."

"Had worse, Doc, don't need to bother you with the little stuff."

"I believe the 'doctor' before my name means that _I_ get to make that assessment, Commander." Amusement and consternation fought in her voice. Her professors in medical school could not have foreseen this scenario; arguing with her naked CO between insane, suicidal missions to the far edges of space felt almost normal.

An internal voice reminded her that she had given up her career for another chance at this very life.

"Alright, Doctor, you win." Shepard grimaced as she worked herself upright. "Have at me."

"Careful," Garrus supported her lightly, winning a warm smile in the process. Chakwas tried to ignore the thread of intimacy running between them as she unpacked her kit on the foot of the bed and set about removing the bandages from Shepard's side. She'd treated these very bodies countless times since coming under Shepard's command without feeling like an intruder on their nakedness. Neither soldier showed any sense of discomfort with their nudity and she wondered at the oddity that only the doctor exhibited any embarrassment. Garrus made no move to leave nor did the Commander seem to wish it. Instead, he braced a comforting hand on her back when she drew a hissing breath at the gentle but firm examination.

"Actually, Garrus has done a thorough job."

Shepard's eyebrow quirked. "He's very thorough. Even playing doctor."

Chakwas choked. "Yes, well, Commander, _that_ is information you are most welcome to keep to yourself."

"I've had plenty of field experience treating wounds, Doctor Chakwas. Why should Shepard avoid mentioning it?" Garrus stared at her, concerned; perhaps capture by the Collectors had traumatized the human doctor more deeply than he'd realized? She had never before seen his battlefield medical abilities as a threat to her position…

Shepard's shoulders quivered beneath his hand and a quick evaluation of her features told him she was attempting to mask her amusement. Badly. He leaned in, suspicion rising. "You are laughing." Garrus accused.

Chakwas huffed.

"Our fearless leader refers to a…cultural idiom. It has _very little_ to do with medicine." Her stern glare evoked an innocent shrug from Shepard. "And once I replace this bandage, I'll be finished here, so I'll let _her_ explain it." She wrapped the wounds in fresh bandages and made quick work of repacking her kit. The Commander's levity reassured her and Garrus really had done an excellent job. _Thank goodness for medigel and soldiers worried over their leader's health, even when she isn't._ "I do want to see you for another exam tomorrow, Commander. Before I go, should I bring you some clothes?" _Dear heavens, I sounds like my mother!_ She cringed internally but the question was already posed.

"Why? Afraid the Turian won't be able to resist my many charms?" Shepard settled back on the pillows. "I don't think my nudity is going to overcome Garrus' resistance."

"Too late." He rumbled, letting his eyes roam the length of her body. "I'm changing my position on that human fetish."

"For goodness sake! I'm right here!" Chakwas found herself blushing for the first time in longer than she could remember. "And I want both of you to _sleep_. There will be no… _doctoring_ tonight. _I mean it_." She sent them a final glare before the door slid shut behind her.

"EDI, please inform me if her heart rate rises above a hundred beats a minute." At least the AI could inform her if they decided to forgo her instructions.

"If you had not interfered, they would have remained asleep." EDI sounded decidedly smug.

"If there's something you want to say, EDI, please get on with it."

"I told you so."

 


	3. The Past and the Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While there is definitely room to argue that Garrus may have been on the SR-1 when she went down, for the purposes of this story, I maintain that he was not.

The door muffled Dr. Chakwas' orders to EDI but Shepard could guess the gist. Staring up at Garrus, it occurred to her that she didn't care. The few hours of sleep and his careful ministrations had replaced the searing pain of the burn with the itch of healing skin and a dull throbbing. _Too bad the inventor of medi-gel is long dead,_ she thought, _'Cause I definitely owe that guy a drink._ She flushed under Garrus' scrutiny. The undulating backlight of the aquarium cast him in silhouette but she still felt his gaze as readily as his touch.

"See something you like, Officer?" She stroked his elbow spines gently, teasing but curious about his thoughts. Sometimes he watched her, intense and inscrutable, and she couldn't help but try to figure him out.

"Every time." Garrus curled his talons and brushed her neck with his knuckles. She tilted her head, allowing better access. His attention never wavered from the whispered path of his hands across her collarbone. Shepard closed her eyes and relished the electricity of his tender caress. She had not anticipated the pleasure of experiencing Garrus' considerable concentration firsthand. All that intense focus he usually applied to the scope of his rifle translated exquisitely into the rest of his pursuits.

Garrus chuckled, "I'm glad all those years in training were good for something." It took Shepard a moment to realize she had spoken aloud.

"Good for a lot of things," she smiled, drawing him closer. Her fingers coiled beneath his fringe, eliciting a low sound of appreciation.

"If you don't explain what Chakwas meant by 'No doctoring', do you think I'll still get in trouble?" Garrus' mandibles flexed, she detected both amusement and desire in the gesture.

Shepard laughed out loud, "So you want me to go down alone?"

Garrus froze.

"Never," he pulled away, pain in his eyes. "Never again."

The past weighed on them both and Shepard hadn't meant to call up those dark memories. She reached for him, breaking the silence with an apologetic noise. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "A poor choice of words." He framed her face with careful hands and touched his forehead to her own. The gesture was equal parts tenderness and heartbreak.

Her lips found the corner of his mouth, followed the contours of his rigid upper lip. She poured her mute thanks into each kiss, covering him with all the things she couldn't find the words to say.

Garrus rolled back, pulling her with him. Shepard settled herself between his wide hips, careful of his sharper edges. His talons skimmed her hair; he'd admitted a fascination with the minute strands as they lay entwined the night before, fortifying each other with soft touches and hushed words. And now the gesture soothed them both.

His persistent gentleness moved her; from anyone else, it would have been infuriating—she hated coddling—but from Garrus, it wasn't a comment on perceived strength, or lack thereof, it just was. Beneath the warrior he was just…kind. She liked that.

Her fingers explored the ridge along his breastbone.

"I was working cleanup in the Wards when I heard," Garrus' voice was so low, so quiet that she almost felt the words more than she heard them. "Later, Anderson told me he'd tried to reach me before news hit the extranet but Citadel communications was still in such rough shape…"

"Garrus…" She stilled, watching his mandibles clench and feeling a moment of helpless anger—this was a hurt she could do nothing to fix. It could not be undone.

"And all I could think was that I should have _been there_." He expelled a ragged sigh. "I should have been there."

There was nothing to say to that; she couldn't change how he felt about that day and she wouldn't tell him his feelings were wrong. She carried her own fair share of regrets, after all. Instead, she traced his collar ridge and watched the dim, blue light play across the already familiar plates of his body. She opened her mouth to reassure him and instead she found her own weakness tumbling out in a hushed flurry.

"I woke up and nearly everything, _everyone_ , I'd known was gone. Dead, moved on or just so different that it was like meeting strangers in familiar bodies." He gradually stopped caressing her hair, his hands resting lightly against her neck as he focused on her face. She plowed on; for good or ill, Garrus deserved the truth. "But, despite everything, _you_ still had my back, still trusted me and you were the only thing in all the madness that felt _right._ "

Garrus lay still beneath her, his even breaths pressing against her cheek.

She met his gaze, "No one could have saved the Normandy," _Or me._ "But because you weren't _there_ , you could be _here_ , in this life, when I needed you most." She fought the urge to fidget; she felt more than just exposed. When was the last time she'd been so honest with anyone?

"I think I can live with that." He rumbled slowly, his mandibles relaxing.

"Good, 'cause I've gotten used to having you around." She teased, glad to see the light returning to his eyes.

"Well, after a while, you were bound to appreciate some good, old-fashioned infiltration." He growled, nuzzling her hair.

"Oh, I definitely value your skills in… _infiltration_." Shepard tried not to laugh but she couldn't hide the mirth bubbling beneath her words.

Garrus groaned and, mortified, buried his face in her shoulder. She snickered.

"A vow of silence is the only cure." He muttered.

Shepard grinned, "It's not so bad. I think it's kinda cute."

"Cute? I was _Archangel_. I cannot be 'cute'." Garrus protested.

"Oh, I think so—you stammer and blush…"

"Turians _don't_ blush." He collapsed against the pillows, his arms spread in defeat.

"But you _do_ go very still for a moment, right here." She ran a careful finger along his undamaged mandible, "You always do when you're uncomfortable. Or embarrassed. A Turian blush. Like I said, cute." She continued stroking the sensitive planes of his face.

He flexed his mandibles as wide as he could—an invitation—and shivered as her nails trailed lightly over the delicate skin he revealed. Shepard had room to slide her hand beneath his left mandible; the right one hardly left his cheek. The replacement plating still pinned it in place. Maybe if the wound healed enough to upgrade the prosthetic to something smaller, he'd regain further mobility. She gently brushed a thumb over the scarred flesh and stiffly raised herself up to scatter soft kisses from his mouth to the edge of his fringe.

She felt his excited heartbeat pounding against her ribs as he drew a shuddering breath, fighting to remain still beneath her.

"When Dr. Chakwas comes back, she's going to think this is my fault." Garrus growled, sounding suspiciously unrepentant.

"Probably," Shepard murmured against his throat, equally unconcerned. "Bet I can make it worth your while, though."

Garrus made a rough sound, pleasure rumbling deep in his chest. "Hell, Shepard, I've faced scarier things than Chakwas for you. You don't need to win me over. I'm already yours."

She took in his words, his outstretched arms—the vulnerable skin of his inner arms exposed—and open mandibles. She wouldn't have needed Mordin's data to recognize these as gestures of trust but all that information did help her recognize the significance of _this_ particular display. And gave her the framework to properly respond.

Shepard rocked back onto her knees; slowly, she bent and pressed her lips first to one side of his throat, then the other. Garrus' breath hitched. She nipped his collar ridge and then brushed her cheek deliberately against the damaged side of his face. Garrus stared up at her in undisguised shock.

She felt a pang of concern, "I improvised a little…uh, no mandibles."

"Shepard," Garrus rasped and she found herself enveloped, his bent knees bracketing her on either side as he wrapped her in a fervent embrace.

"Did you think I took all of this so lightly, Garrus?" She whispered, slipping her arms around his waist. "I don't think this ever could have been just blowing off steam."

"I'm not sure what I thought but…I…I don't want you to regret this, Shepard."

"I could never regret you, Garrus." She nuzzled closer.

"There are things, things like a family…" Garrus trailed off. "We couldn't…I mean, I'd never planned on it but…you should have kids, Shepard. You deserve that."

"You think what I need is _more_ children?" She sounded shocked and leaned farther back to give him a quizzical look.

"You…you have children?" Garrus stammered.

"I've got so many that I'm beginning to wonder if we're not living out some homicidal Dickens novel." Shepard laughed at the look on his face, "Human writer, lots of orphans." She explained.

"I have heard of Dickens. I have _not_ heard any children running around our ship. Perhaps I _should_ call Chakwas back." He teasingly ran a hand over her scalp, as if searching for injuries.

"Garrus, this week's series of lectures with Grunt included the classics, _'You're not my mother!'_ and _'Nobody understands me!'_. I'm going to mail him back to Wrex when he discovers girls. That is one battle I'm just not willing to fight."

"Alright, so we acquired an adolescent krogan." He shrugged, as if such a thing might have happened to anyone.

"Grunt's just the beginning—we've got a full set. Haven't you picked up on the rivalry between Jack and Miranda? They're catty and fifteen every time they get within ten meters of each other. Legion and Tali are either going to become fast friends or kill each other. Zaeed's the rebel son, out to shock us with tales of sex and violence. Face it, Garrus, two thirds of the people on this boat either _are_ kids, _act_ like kids, or _have_ kids that we have to chase across the galaxy. We're an orphanage with an FTL drive."

Garrus chuckled, "A very lethal orphanage, then."

"First lesson at _The_ _Normandy School for Lost and Dangerous Children_ —shoot to kill."

"Very practical." He paused, "It really wouldn't bother you? That we…couldn't…I mean, I'm supposing a lot, maybe you don't even want this…us…I just assumed, when you…"

"Breathe, Garrus." Her fingers ghosted along his neck, an intentional reminder of her gesture of loyalty. "I want this," a kiss on his jaw, "I want _you._ Anyway, you're worrying a bit far ahead—kids are a discussion for times when no one's pointing a fleet of synthetic nightmares at you."

"True, there _are_ a lot of people who want us dead, just now." His hand smoothed over her hip slowly; she vocalized her pleasure at the metallic rasp with a low hum.

"I suppose it's what we get for throwing ourselves in front of so many bullets…" Her mouth followed a thick scar across his collarbone.

"Don't forget lasers." He touched her bandages.

She rolled her eyes, "And haven't _those_ been a fun addition."

"I can think of more enjoyable things." Smooth talons circled delicate patterns on the back of her thigh. She traced just as lightly over the soft skin of his neck, enjoying his excited rumble.

"Is that so? Well, I'm open to suggestions…" Her foot stroked the length of his calf, avoiding the curved spur jutting from his ankle. "What did you have in mind?"

"A rematch." He rolled, pinning her wrists to the mattress. Garrus' mandibles stretched in a predatory grin. "After all, how dangerous can one human female be?" His narrow tongue darted out, swiping the curve of her ear. A delicious shudder ran up her spine.

"I think that could be arranged." Her hips arched promisingly against his body, "I should warn you, though…"

Garrus hissed as the wash of dark energy shorted out his brain with a pulse of exquisite _sensation_.

"…She _cheats_."

 

_fin_


End file.
